Cage
by Brandywine421
Summary: Missing scene from The Model Home.


_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything OC related.  
AN: Started for Maud who always wants Juvie!Ryan. Missing scene from the Model Home episode. One shot._

* * *

Fucking cops. He hates fucking cops. Their smartass mouths. Their ignorant comments. Their well-placed elbows and fists. He hates fucking cops.

He didn't need Mr. Cohen to tell him not to say anything; he'll bleed to death before he said anything to these fucking cops.

They haven't asked him any questions; they've just shoved him in the cell. They don't care that he fell to his knees on the cement. They don't care that he was bleeding down his shirt from where the cop had busted his nose again getting him out of the squad car.

He's just a fucking punk that burned down one of the 'real people's' homes.

Fucking dirty-ass cell. He doesn't sit on the bed; he doesn't want to know what color the sheets started out at the beginning, he sits in the corner opposite the urinal. He hates fucking jail. He'll sit on the dirty floor before he sits on the bed.

Fucking Luke Ward. Fucking model home. Fucking stupid idea to light candles and get settled into a fucking model home in a model world. It was all just pretend and he didn't want it to end.

Well, tough shit. He's back where he belongs now.

Sitting in a fucking cell spitting blood. Those spoiled little jocks packed a bigger punch than he expected. He's going to be hurting for a while.

He'd give his left nut for three minutes alone with that punkass Luke.

Even if the bastard saved his life.

He should've let him burn.

He fucked up. He should have left when his mom kicked him out, he shouldn't have tried grasping at straws and calling some fucking stranger for charity. He should've taken his chances and just skipped town. But no. He had to take a chance and call the fucking lawyer with the nice eyes and big eyebrows.

Now he's right back where he started from, in a fucking cell.

He should feel at home. His dad, his brother, they live in these fucking boxes. He should get used to it.

They didn't even give him a jumpsuit; they just pushed him in the cell. 

His cage.

Everyone in Newport already considers him an animal. Sub-human. He was only capable of violence and crime. Shit, he'd been sleeping in the poolhouse because Mr. Cohen's wife didn't want him in the house. The people he lived with didn't even trust him.

Why should they? He was just a street thug. He doesn't belong in Newport.

But it doesn't really matter anymore. He's lost his chance. He took a chance and he lost.

"Your lawyer's here."

Fucking cops. He's sore and battered and doesn't get up in time to suit the cop so the guy pulls him up by his arm and shoves him toward the door.

He pulls his arm away. Fucking cops love to touch. He hates being touched; he hates being 'handled.'

"Don't push it," The cop growls.

He doesn't say anything. The cop pushes him into a room and closes the door behind him before he can react.

Mr. Cohen's sitting at a desk and there's a guard glaring at him by the door. The guard nods to the seat and he obediently sits down.

He's learned that obedience ends better than rebellion. He's bruised and tired and he doesn't want to fight anymore. Not with cops.

He doesn't want to talk to Mr. Cohen. But he owes him a conversation. He knows no other lawyer would have tried so hard to help him. Just to have him fuck it up.

"Ryan. Are you okay?" The man's voice is laced with concern and he doesn't want to hear it. He's fucked up this guy's life and he's still trying to be nice.

He nods. He doesn't want to look in Mr. Cohen's eyes but after the long silence, he has to. He lowers his gaze immediately.

He doesn't want to think about what he sees in those eyes. Disappointment. Disgust. Pity. Confusion.

"You want to tell me what happened?"

He doesn't want to tell him anything.

"Seth says it's his fault. Luke says the fire is his fault. I need to know what you have to say for yourself."

"It's my fault."

"Tell me what happened. Why'd you run?"

Why the hell didn't he run? That's the twist. He'd made the decision to leave, to leave the lawyer's family alone and get the hell out of town. But he'd stayed. He'd let Seth and Marissa talk him into staying. He's so fucking stupid…

"Ryan. I know you weren't happy about the group home…"

"I'm sorry." The words have been echoing around in his brain for hours but it's the first time he's said them. He means them. His dad used to beat him until he'd cough up the words, but this time, he really fucking means it. He's fucking sorry.

"I'm sorry, but there's not much I can do if you don't talk to me…"

"I knocked a candle over."

"Did the candle give you that black eye?"

He rolls his eyes at Sandy. What does he want from him? If he knows the story, why is he here?

"Ryan…I want to help you. But…you violated your probation and it's going to take me some time…"

"It's okay, Mr. Cohen." He has to say something because the man looks devastated. Mr. Cohen looks like he's lost something.

Ryan lost hope years ago. He fucked up again. This fucking stranger seemed more upset than he did. Weird.

"Ryan…"

"Thanks for your help, Mr. Cohen," He forced himself to say. He wanted out of this room. The cage was better than having this man examining him with his eyes. He couldn't take it.

"I'm sorry, Ryan…"

The guard immediately approached as Ryan stood up. He flashed the handcuffs at him but Ryan stood still and the man didn't put them on. He nodded toward the door and Ryan obediently took several steps.

"Ryan. Be careful."

Careful. In jail. He really didn't know anything, did he?


End file.
